


Proof of Concept

by havenwolds



Series: Foundation [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Blow Jobs, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Post-Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 12:30:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15707262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havenwolds/pseuds/havenwolds
Summary: Connor makes a request. Hank doesn't put up much of a fight.





	Proof of Concept

Connor was acting weird.

Well. Weird in a different way from usual, Hank thought as Connor handed off another dish for drying. He’d been uncharacteristically quiet that evening as they’d gone about their usual Saturday evening routine: Connor cooking dinner, Connor shooting the breeze with Hank as the human ate said dinner, then the two cleaning up the kitchen together. 

(“Together” may have been an overstatement considering what an uphill battle it had been to persuade Connor to let Hank so much as dry the dishes. “I _like_ doing it,” he’d insisted, as though that made Hank feel better about being waited on hand and foot in his own damn house.)

Maybe Connor was finally going to tell him he’d found better things to do and wouldn’t be coming by on Saturdays anymore. He’d been living in the Jericho apartments for damn near six months—since just after the revolution, before they could have even really been called apartments. Markus’s people had done amazing work turning the rundown tenements into something reasonably livable. Surely in that time Connor had made enough friends, found enough valuable work to do, that he didn’t need to be spending what free time he had with Hank. Hank wouldn’t begrudge him a life.

If Connor noticed Hank’s scrutinizing looks—and there was no way he didn’t—he didn’t comment on it. Letting the water out of the sink, he dried his hands and turned to Hank with a smile. “How about a drink, Lieutenant?”

Hank’s eyes narrowed. “Suuuuuure.” Connor encouraging drinking. Shit, maybe it was worse than he thought.

Connor took down a bottle of whiskey and a glass from the overhead cabinets, poured Hank a healthy amount, then moved to replace the bottle. “Leave it,” Hank grunted. He had a feeling he was going to need it.

Connor faltered, then nodded and left the Black Lamb out on the counter. Hank eyed him warily as he took a seat at the kitchen table and wove his fingers together, fidgeting. “There’s actually something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Here it comes, thought Hank. It was fun while it lasted. “Would never have guessed,” he said half into his glass. “Shoot.”

Connor unfolded his hands, then refolded them. “You know about the Jericho Foundation, right?”

Hank did, vaguely. Following the revolution, a number of androids that had worked for CyberLife joined up with Jericho, bringing their expertise in android manufacturing and programming with them. They’d even swayed some sympathetic human engineers to their cause. Their collaboration had eventually developed into the Foundation. “That’s the group that’s been rolling out the android parts, right?”

“In addition to software patches and upgrades, yes.” Connor’s LED flickered. “There’s a particular component that they’ve been working on for some time, and they just announced that they’re ready for a soft launch. Since I’m a friend of Jericho, they’ve offered to allow me into the beta test.”

This was not at _all_ the direction Hank had anticipated this conversation going. He struggled to re-orient his brain. “A new component, like, what, exactly?” 

Connor hesitated, lips parted enough that Hank could see the edges of his teeth. He suddenly wished he hadn’t asked. “It’s… an appendage.”

“An appendage.”

“A biocomponent. For…” Another pause. Connor’s jaw worked. “…the equivalent of human sexual intercourse.”

The penny dropped with a resounding clang. “An android dick.”

Connor shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “To put it bluntly, yes. And the software to support it.”

The room suddenly seemed to be spinning slowly. Hank ran a hand over his face, dimly aware he was starting to sweat. “And you’ve got a place in this”— _oh, Christ, don’t say ‘soft launch’_ —“….test. Fuck, I don’t even wanna _imagine_ that conversation.”

“I only have a place if I want it. But I have to admit that I’m…” Connor paused, eyes drifting up and to the left. “…curious.”

“Curious,” Hank deadpanned.

“Yes,” Connor continued, ignoring Hank’s tone. “Sexual functions for androids are nothing new, but CyberLife never saw fit to include… receptors for the androids’ benefit. Independent developers have tried to remedy that, but solutions have always been imperfect, sometimes even dangerous. This has the support of the Foundation, as well as working, tested hardware. It’s… exciting.”

Well. Hank couldn’t disagree with that. “So you wanna get one, is what you’re saying.”

“I can’t say it doesn’t interest me.”

Hank nodded to himself, mulling as he rolled the last swallow of whiskey in his glass. He thanked the gods of alcohol for keeping the absurdity of this conversation far enough at bay for him to at least see Connor along to whatever conclusion he was reaching. “I mean. Good. I support you? Christ, Connor, why’re you tellin’ me this? You don’t need my input on what you do with your… parts.”

“I was wondering if you’d be interested in helping me with a test run.”

Hank choked, eyes watering as his drink seared the wrong way down his throat. Spluttering, he slammed the glass down on the counter, somehow managing to catch his breath before rounding on the android. “Connor, what the _fuck_ —”

“I understand this must be… unexpected,” Connor began with caution, leaning towards Hank across the table and looking up at him imploringly. Hank knew this tactic. This was Connor’s good-cop negotiation mode. “But you should know I’ve given this a great deal of thought.”

“Oh, you have, have you,” Hank answered dryly.

“Yes,” Connor said, matter-of-fact. “Ever since the press release went out, so for a few days now.”

Oh, Jesus, now there was a thought. Connor contemplating the pros and cons of Hank handling his new sex hardware… at the precinct? Out walking Sumo? On the _couch_ , two feet away from him? Hank felt woozy.

And it would be a bald-faced lie to say Hank hadn’t thought about fucking Connor before. He had—a lot—but he’d put it out of his mind, assuming there was no way Connor would be interested in that with him, if he was even capable. Now he was hearing that the latter problem was about to be resolved, and the former, well… Was this really what Connor wanted? With him?

Hank raked a hand through his hair, dragging it down to scratch at his beard. “Christ, Connor, isn’t there anyone else you could go to with this? Fuck, this is what the Eden Club is _for_.”

“I know that,” Connor parried. “But my research suggests that these sorts of things are best experienced for the first time with someone you trust. There’s no one I trust more than you.”

That threw Hank for a moment. He pressed his lips together, considering how to respond.

“If you’d prefer not to, I understand. It’s perfectly—”

Hank cut him off with a raised hand. “I didn’t _say_ that.”

Connor closed his mouth, blinked, and tilted his head.

Hank pursed his lips again, brow furrowed, and whirled back to the bottle of whiskey on the counter. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, more a sound in the back of his throat than a word. Poured a shot, downed it. “Fuck.”

Behind him, Connor waited. Even without turning around, Hank knew the expression he was making—placid, contemplating. He briefly, wildly, wondered what his face would look like, experiencing pleasure for the first time. Thinking about being the one to give him that pleasure made his head spin.

With hesitation, Hank turned back around towards Connor, and when he met his eyes again, he knew this had been over before it started. Stronger men than Hank couldn’t refuse what was being offered, and Hank was not a strong man. “…When would you wanna do this?”

Connor brightened and his LED blinked yellow. Looking at some calendar in his brain or something, maybe. “Distribution starts next Saturday, so assuming they can see me… our usual time that evening?”

A week away. Handling cases in the meantime was going to be an exercise in heroic focus. “Sounds peachy,” Hank croaked.

Fuck.

 

They didn’t speak about it again that week, passing their shifts at the precinct with an unacknowledged but palpable tension between them. For the first time in months, Hank longed to get blackout drunk, if only to give himself something to do besides think about Connor’s soon-to-be “appendage” and/or jerk off like a horny teenager. But he knew Connor wouldn’t be happy about it, and this plan of theirs already felt fragile enough as it was. Hank wasn’t entirely sure he hadn’t dreamed it.

When they prepared to end their day on Friday evening, Connor sidled up to Hank’s desk and leaned a hip against it. “Are we still on for this weekend?” His voice was cool, but his fingers tapped out a nervous rhythm on the surface of the desk.

Hank focused on the motion rather than on Connor’s face. “I’m game if you are.”

Connor nodded politely. “Have a good evening, then, Lieutenant.”

As Connor turned to leave, Hank caught him by the shoulder and turned him halfway back, speaking close enough to his ear that only he would hear. “Let’s skip on dinner tomorrow. Just… come over when you’re ready.”

Connor seemed to swallow, a useless reflex. “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow night then?”

“Yeah. Tomorrow.”

And so Hank found himself pacing his living room on Saturday as the sun set, a baseball game he wasn’t paying attention to droning in the background. He’d half expected Connor to cancel, but he hadn’t heard from him all day. Maybe he just wouldn’t show? Sumo watched Hank from his dog bed, eyes moving back and forth to follow him. “Don’t look at me like that,” Hank muttered, and the dog whuffed in response.

A soft knock nearly made him jump out of his skin. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, swore a few times quietly. Then, steeling himself, he pulled open the door.

Connor stood on his front step, looking up at Hank through his eyelashes, his eyes soft and hesitant. “Hi,” he offered, almost a question. He looked as impeccable as ever: white button-down, fitted jeans, hair arranged with the omnipresent loose curl across his forehead. Hank tried to keep his eyes above his belt, with limited success.

“Hi yourself,” Hank answered, trying to force some amount of normalcy into the situation. He stepped back to allow Connor in; as he passed, Hank realized he smelled… different, in that usually he smelled like nothing. He smelled _good_ , actually, woody and expensive. Heat shot down Hank’s spine.

“Everything, uh,” Hank tried as Connor hovered awkwardly in his living room. The air felt heavy. “Everything go all right?”

“More smoothly than expected, actually,” Connor managed to sound blithe. “I’ve been assured everything’s in working order.”

“Good. Great.” It had been twenty seconds of this situation and Hank already needed someone to throw him a life preserver. He scratched the back of his neck just to give his hand something to do. “Have you… tried it out?”

For the first time in all this, Connor had the decency to look a bit shy. “No. I wanted to wait for you.”

Something in the middle of Hank’s chest lurched. This was not going to be a simple one-night stand, he didn’t need to be a detective to suss that out; he knew that following this would be some long conversations, hopefully over many drinks. …Hopefully with a lot of things. But for now, there was business to attend to.

“So, uh.” Hank swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. “How do you wanna do this?”

“I’m not sure,” Connor said slowly, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. “Where would you start if I were a human?”

The question hung in the air between them for a long moment. Connor’s fingers flexed where they hung next to his hip; rolling an invisible coin, maybe. In the corner of the room, Sumo sighed, asleep. Finally, Hank drifted forward and cupped Connor’s face in a large hand. His thumb traced over the freckles on Connor’s cheek as he watched for his reaction, waiting.

Connor’s eyes slid closed.

Hank let go of a sigh he didn’t know he’d been holding and kissed him. For a moment, Connor was motionless, then his hands were everywhere—skimming over Hank’s bare forearms, caressing his neck, fisting in his hair. Connor’s mouth tasted like nothing, but that woody scent was enveloping him (cologne, Hank knew it was, but just thinking that made him feel insane). He broke away from Connor’s lips to kiss the juncture between his neck and ear, breathing him in, and Connor _moaned_.

This evening was going from “Hey let’s check out how your cool new robot dick works” to “I wanna fuck the living daylights out of you” _so_ goddamn fast.

“Fuck,” Hank gasped and pulled back, trying hastily to regather his bearings. “You sound amazing. You _smell_ amazing. What the fuck.”

Connor looked drunk, eyes half-lidded and still fixed on Hank’s mouth. He leaned in again, chasing, but Hank stopped him with a hand on his sternum. “Wait, wait, wait.” He was warm under Hank’s palm. “Bedroom. Please.”

Almost before Hank registered what was happening, Connor grabbed him by the hand and pulled— _dragged_ , Hank would later describe it, which Connor would vehemently deny—him into the bedroom. Hank barely had the presence of mind to kick the door shut behind them before Connor was on him again, pulling Hank’s mouth to his with both hands on his face.

They had backed their way up to the bed and Hank was breathless when he forced them to separate again. “Connor, Jesus, slow down,” he panted. “We’ve got as long as we want.”

“Sorry,” Connor said, his voice low. His fingers flexed against Hank’s jawline. “You just feel so good.”

Hank’s cock twitched of its own accord. The upgrade let Connor feel pleasure, he’d understood that much, but he hadn’t expected him to be this sensitive everywhere. Experimentally, he ran the backs of his fingers down his cheek, over his chin, along the side of his throat, and Connor shivered.

His hand came to rest at Connor’s clavicle, where the rest of his skin disappeared under his shirt collar. Their eyes met and something like resolve passed over Connor’s face. As Hank watched, transfixed, Connor unbuttoned his shirt and eased it off his shoulders. Then, because it was Connor, he folded it neatly and draped it over the arm of the chair in the corner. Hank managed to school his smile back into something neutral before Connor turned back around to face him, bare down to his waist.

Hank had never seen Connor in so much as a T-shirt, let alone with his entire upper body exposed. He caught Connor’s wrist in a loose grip, able to close almost his entire hand around it, and held it gently as his eyes roved over the android’s synthetic skin, over the fine hairs on his arms that had no practical reason to be there but were there nonetheless. He was a work of art, lovingly rendered by god knows who. Some android sexiness committee.

Without thinking, he dipped his head to press his lips against the crook of Connor’s inner elbow, his wrist, the palm of his hand. It wasn’t until Connor made a soft sound that Hank realized how much he’d been lingering. Connor was watching him with affection, his brown eyes soft and lidded. “Hank…”

Hank couldn’t bring himself to be embarrassed. “C’mere,” he said roughly, tugging Connor against him before lowering both of their weights down onto the bed. Propping himself up on his elbows, Hank tucked his face against Connor’s throat, mapping out where a human’s carotid artery would be with his lips. As it was, Connor released a shaky sigh, tilting his head back to allow Hank better access.

As Hank moved on to take one of Connor’s earlobes between his teeth and tug, he slotted a thigh between Connor’s legs, and pressed against what was definitely an erection. Distantly, he wondered how all this worked—Connor’s body, his new “component”—but the thought scattered when Connor released a stuttering moan, and all of Hank’s higher cognitive function was dismissed for the evening.

“You can feel that?” Hank asked, pointedly rubbing his thigh against Connor’s groin.

“Yes.” Connor’s hands were gripping into the back of Hank’s shirt. “I can feel it.”

“Oh. Good. How about this?” Hank teased as he lowered a hand to palm Connor through his jeans, and the android bucked against him.

“ _Yes_ ,” Connor answered again, voice strained. “Nnn _Hank_ —”

Hank relented, removing his hand from the front of Connor’s pants in favor of ducking his head to press a sucking kiss to one of Connor’s perfect nipples, drawing out a soft gasp. Connor squirmed under his touch, hands flexing in tight fists against Hank’s shoulder blades.

All this foreplay hadn’t been part of their arrangement, but as far as Hank was concerned he was old and horny, and it wasn’t often that a beautiful individual, android or otherwise, came to him asking to take their new parts for a spin, so Hank felt inclined to take his time. Connor certainly didn’t seem to be complaining.

Easing back onto his knees, Hank took a moment to take Connor in. Androids didn’t seem to blush, Hank noted with a small amount of disappointment, but his simulated breath was gratifyingly heavy. The moles that were scattered across his face continued down his body, across his arms and abdomen, down beneath his belt.

Hank’s eyes rested there for a moment before he looked back up to Connor, who was watching him intently. “Can I take these off?” he asked, hands hovering over Connor’s belt buckle.

Connor gave a jerky nod in response, toeing off his shoes and socks in a hurry before reaching down to help Hank unfasten his belt and shuck his jeans down his legs. Hank tugged them free and let them drop onto the floor without tearing his eyes away from Connor. He realized with some amount of hysteria that Connor did not wear underwear, and was fully naked beneath him, between his legs. He couldn’t help but stare.

Connor’s body was trim and pale, nearly hairless from his neck down. Not especially well-muscled, but masculine and defined, with long legs—also decorated with sparse patterns of freckles, Hank observed with deep satisfaction. And between his legs, curved against his stomach, was a slender, modestly-sized cock, the only part of his body flushed pink.

Hank’s mouth watered.

Apparently he’d been ogling for longer than he’d thought, because Connor’s tentative “Hank?” actually startled him. The android was eyeing him with an anxious expression. “Is everything all right?”

“Connor, you’re—” _Perfect. The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen._ “—more than all right.”

Connor’s answering smile was pleased. “Can I see you, too?”

Right. Somehow, Hank hadn’t fully thought through that this encounter might involve him getting undressed in front of Teen Heartthrob-bot 2039. “Uh,” Hank grunted. “Yeah, sure. You asked for it.”

He pulled his T-shirt over his head, trying to ignore Connor’s eyes on him. He knew what he looked like: not too bad, considering his age and general terrible lifestyle, but nothing to write home about, that was for sure. What had once been a fit, strong body had softened with years of disuse, gone flabby. Whorls of hair, always fair but now turned undeniably gray, covered his chest and stomach, and his belly hung sadly over his waistband like it was disappointed in him personally.

Removing his shorts and boxers without ceremony, Hank tossed them to the floor and straightened, naked on his knees in front of Connor. He comforted himself with the fact that at least his dick was something he wasn’t ashamed of; not as long as some he’d seen, but thick, jutting proudly out of a thatch of hair (also gray, but what were you gonna do). Hank looked at Connor without speaking—or, rather, looked in his direction, keeping his eyes cast just far enough down to not see the expression on Connor’s face.

“Hank,” he heard Connor say, and then there was the sound of sheets rustling and Connor’s hands were back, mapping out the soft contours of him. Connor’s manufactured breath was warm on his face. “Hank.”

For his part, Hank sought out Connor’s mouth again, this time swiping the tip of his tongue against Connor’s lips. His partner accommodated him readily, meeting Hank’s tongue with his own and allowing himself to be pressed back into the bedding.

A flashing light in his peripheral vision distracted Hank enough to break the kiss, and he chuckled when he saw that it was Connor’s LED, blinking yellow. “Analyzing my spit?”

“No,” was the too-fast response. Connor had never had a flair for lying.

“Sure.” Hank’s grin softened into a fond smile, finding himself leaning over Connor again. His right hand wandered down Connor’s smooth stomach and stopped, curving over his pelvis, the tips of his fingers just barely grazing the base of his cock. “Ready to try out this _component_?”

Connor seemed to surprise himself with his own breathy laugh. He fidgeted a bit, eyes steady on where Hank’s broad hand rested just above his parted thighs. “Ready.” 

Taking Connor in hand for the first time marked one of those watershed moments in Hank’s life, leaving an era behind and embarking on something new. In the moment, though, all he registered was how smooth Connor was, how soft and warm, and how much he was looking forward to making him come his brains out. Connor’s face had gone slack, his lips parted prettily. As he watched Hank stroke him, his eyes fluttered shut, eyebrows raising and then furrowing.

“Feel good?”

Connor’s only response was a rapid nod, and fuck if Hank wasn’t already harder than he’d been in decades.

“So,” Hank started, trying to sound casual, or as casual as he could while lazily stroking his partner’s cock. “I probably should’ve asked this earlier, but can you, uh… can you come?”

“Yes,” Connor breathed. “The new component is capable of ejaculating a water-based lubricant, which is harmless for both androids and humans to touch and, ah… ingest.”

Well, that had been more information than Hank had bargained for in response to that question, but he couldn’t say it wasn’t relevant. “Ingest, huh?” he grinned, smoothing his free hand over his beard. “Safe to swallow?”

“Correct.”

“That a hint?”

“N-No!” Connor jolted partway up, propping himself on his elbows; the synthetic muscles of his abdomen creased as he did, tantalizingly real. “I was just—I didn’t mean to imply—”

Hank chuckled and steadied him with a hand on chest. “Relax, Connor, I was just fucking with you. Imply whatever you want, I’m probably gonna be into it. And I’m pretty into the idea of sucking you off, to be honest.”

“…Oh.” Connor’s LED pulsed yellow. Processing. Processing.

“You all right? Your light’s going crazy.”

Connor blinked up at Hank, LED still active. “I’m sorry, I—I’m not sure what’s happening. I feel… tight? Like my circuits are overloaded, but that’s not possible. And I’m…” he trailed off, raising a hand to show Hank that his fingers were trembling.

Hank visibly relaxed, worried tension dissipating. “You’re nervous,” he ventured, taking Connor’s hand and holding it.

Connor’s face turned indignant. “I’m not _nervous_. I’m perfectly comfortable.”

“Connor, we don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna do. We can call it quits for the night, even, if you want. It’s all fine by me.”

A quiet moment passed, Hank still holding Connor’s hand, Connor’s thumb drawing circles against Hank’s skin as his LED strobed. “I’d like to try this with you,” Connor murmured when the light on his temple finally settled back into steady blue. “I don’t want to stop. It’s just… unfamiliar.”

Hank answered with a grazing kiss along the back of Connor’s knuckles. After a moment of thought, Hank guided Connor’s hand to his shoulder. “How about this. When something feels good, you give me a squeeze on the shoulder. I do something you don’t like, you tell me. Or kick me in the face, or something.”

Connor’s eyebrows bent, part amusement, part concern. “Hank, I’m not going to kick you in the face.”

“I mean it, Connor. You’re steering.”

Connor went quiet and flexed his fingers against Hank experimentally. “…Got it.”

Keeping his eyes on Connor as he went, Hank arranged himself between Connor’s legs, loosely holding his hips in both hands as he leaned down to lave attention against that perfect stomach. As he worked his way downwards, Connor huffed a laugh. Hank’s eyes flicked up to see a barely suppressed smile on the android’s face, and he quirked an eyebrow.

“I can feel your beard,” Connor ducked his chin a bit sheepishly. “…It tickles.”

Hank gave him a wry smile. “You’re about to feel a lot more than that if you’re done laughing at me.”

Connor’s eyes crinkled at the edges with a warmth that had Hank jotting down a mental note to send CyberLife a letter of appreciation. “Sorry, Lieutenant.”

That earned him a playful slap on the thigh. “And no ‘Lieutenant’ in bed.”

“Yes, _sir_ ,” Connor quipped, easing himself back down onto the pillows.

Oh. That he could actually get used to. Huh.

Pushing that thought aside for another time, Hank returned to the matter at hand. He met Connor’s gaze across the length of his freckled torso and held it. “Ready?”

Connor dipped his chin in a nod. “Yes. …Please.”

Good enough for Hank. Without further ado, he took Connor into his mouth, sliding his tongue along the length of him before drawing off with a soft pop, mouthing the tip as he went.

“Oh,” Connor huffed, eyes looking a little glassy. “That’s…” He trailed off in an uncharacteristic loss of vocabulary. “…Please keep going.”

Before continuing, Hank found Connor’s hand resting against his shoulder and gave it a pat, holding Connor’s gaze until he nodded. Then he went to work in earnest.

Connor’s head immediately dropped back to the pillows as Hank swallowed him down, one hand cupping his balls, exploratory. With a sigh, Connor squeezed Hank’s shoulder and sighed, “That’s good, like that.” 

In the end, they hardly needed to have bothered with the signal, as it seemed that Connor liked everything Hank was doing, but Hank still found it reassuring, Connor rhythmically pressing the heel of his hand into Hank in time with his shaky sighs. The nails of Connor’s unoccupied hand scratched across the sheets, his fingers making unconscious grasping motions, closing and opening.

Getting Connor off turned out to be thrillingly intuitive. Whether it was part of the upgrade package or Connor himself—Hank’s money was on the latter—the android responded beautifully to touch. Taking him down to the base resulted in Connor rolling his hips, pressing his tongue into the underside of his cock drew out breathy whines, and one particularly hard suck garnered a shaky “ _Fffuck_ ”, which was both one of the few times Hank had heard Connor swear and also a sound he anticipated jerking off to for the rest of his natural lifespan.

It had admittedly been a while since Hank had blown anyone, but nothing about this felt wildly different from his experiences with human men. The way Connor arched into him, the sounds he was making, fuck, even the drag of his skin in Hank’s mouth felt real. The brightest minds in the world, god knew how much money in research and materials, all for Hank to be here, doing his damndest to suck an android’s soul out through his dick. The wonders of technology, indeed.

Connor was beginning to writhe, head tipped back toward the headboard as soft moans escaped him; from between his legs, Hank watched the synthetic muscles working in his throat. With Connor’s head thrown back, Hank couldn’t quite catch the LED on his temple, but he could see the light it cast across the pillowcase, flickering yellow and red like the 4th of July. His hand gripped into Hank’s shoulder so hard Hank could practically feel the bruises forming in real time, and he was exhaling in harsh pants, loud in Hank’s quiet bedroom. Hank rested a large palm against his pelvis, rubbing in encouraging circles, and Connor shuddered.

“Hank, I—” he managed to say in a strangled voice. “I’m—!”

Hank squeezed his other hand around Connor’s thigh and with that, Connor came with a sobbing groan, spilling down Hank’s throat. Hank nursed him through it, suckling him gently as Connor whimpered and flexed his hips into his mouth.

When the spasms finally ebbed away, Connor sagged into the mattress, boneless. ( _Chassis-less?_ Hank thought dizzily.) Hank eased him out of his mouth, turning his face to press grazing kisses into the soft material of Connor’s inner thigh, feeling him trembling slightly. “You good, Con?”

A long pause. “…I can’t move.”

Hank snorted a laugh, raising his head to give Connor a smug grin. “Glad to hear it.” He eased himself back up the length of Connor’s body, lowering himself into the pillows next to him as Connor blinked dazedly. “So can I take it you liked that?”

“Yes,” Connor murmured. “I liked that very much.” He closed his eyes for a long moment. “I feel… heavy. Sleepy, I think.”

“Hmm,” Hank made a considering sound that rumbled deep in his chest, giving in to the urge to brush errant locks of hair out of Connor’s face. “So they even thought to build in an afterglow, huh. Go ahead, sleep. Or, uh, whatever it is you do.”

Connor’s eyebrows knit and he shifted slightly, rolling onto his side so he could face Hank fully. “Not yet. I want to do something for you, too. If you’ll show me how.”

“Oh. Nah, don’t worry about it,” Hank said, like he wasn’t going to go jerk off in the bathroom as soon as Connor went into robo-sleep. “This was about you. Learning, or whatever.” Besides, if humans weren’t supposed to operate machinery while drowsy, something about letting a drowsy machine handle his junk gave him pause.

“Hank, there’s a 90% chance you’re going to touch yourself as soon as you get a moment alone.”

Hank went red in the face. “What the f— don’t calculate my jack-off likelihood, all right?”

One side of Connor’s mouth lifted in a lopsided smile. “That was a joke.” He slid a hand across Hank’s chest to trace patterns against the hair there, in a touch somehow more intimate than what they’d just been doing. “Will you at least let me watch?”

Thrill and anxiety shot through Hank’s gut simultaneously. “Connor, you don’t really wanna—”

“I do,” Connor pressed, fixing his eyes on Hank’s face, pupils blown, somehow. “Please.”

Hank felt his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallowed. This android—this _man_ —was the best, worst thing that had ever happened to him.

His head was muzzy, like he was drunk, though he’d only had a couple fingers of bourbon to steel his nerves before Connor knocked on his door, what felt like a million hours ago. The room seemed to recede around him as he leaned forward and met Connor in a kiss, dragging his lips over the android’s slowly, almost dreamily. Connor’s hand, still settled on his chest, eased down his flank to rest against his hip, waiting.

Like a man possessed, Hank lowered his hand to drag along his cock. Closing his eyes, he mentally replayed the sounds Connor had made as he blew him, even as the real, present Connor watched him with sleepy interest, his right leg hooked over Hank’s own, toes tracing along his calf. This show was not going to last long, he could tell; he already felt close, embarrassingly close, out of his mind with arousal.

And then Connor was straddling him, easing Hank’s hand away, replacing it with his own.

“So much for watching,” Hank griped, without any real complaint, and slung an arm over his forehead as he readjusted his position to lay more flat.

Connor just smiled in answer, resuming the pace he had set, and Hank groaned as he realized that he was replicating his own method exactly. He’d been analyzing his motions, and fuck if that wasn’t hot in a really weird way.

Hank fought the urge to close his eyes so he could watch Connor pump him. He wanted to commit this to memory, the way Connor gripped him exactly right, the way those dark eyes watched for his responses. He was too drunk on his own lust to feel scrutinized.

“You should see yourself,” Connor said, like he’d been reading his mind. “I want to do this forever.”

Hank made a noise that was part laugh, part helpless moan. “Hate to break it to you but I’m not gonna last that long.”

Connor veritably _preened_. “So I’m doing well, then?”

“God, Connor, shut up.”

For once in his life, Connor obeyed. He changed his motion a bit, still watching closely, twisting his wrist and tightening his fingers. Hank finally gave in to closing his eyes, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyelids until he saw starbursts. “That’s good,” he panted. “Faster, Con, c’mon.” 

Connor complied, jerking him with firm strokes that would do the job in no time. “Oh fuck, yeah, that’s it, that’s perfect. Don’t stop.” He could feel his orgasm building tight in his balls, just out of reach.

An electrical current pulsed through Connor’s hand, punching the air out of Hank’s lungs and then he was coming, streaming over Connor’s fist. “ _Ohhhh_ fuck. Connor,” Hank wheezed, his toes curling. “Fuck.” It seemed to go on forever, until Hank was sure his balls were milked dry. Sensation tingled at the very base of his spine.

Finally, oversensitive, he laid a hand over Connor’s and slowly guided him to a stop, before dropping his head back down to the bed. “Holy shit, Connor.”

“I made you come,” Connor stated, sounding awed.

“Understatement of the fuckin’ year,” he half-laughed with what breath he could manage to gather. “Jesus _Christ_. How’d you even learn how to do that?”

“I was made to be adaptable under any circumstances, Lieutenant.” And then the cheeky bastard had the gall to wink.

“Give me a fuckin’ break, kid.” Hank could feel his sweat cooling on his skin as his heart rate started to come back to normal. The thought of cleaning up crossed his mind but he let it go, indulging in Connor’s weight on his lap a while longer. He wasn’t sure he could walk even if he wanted to.

Connor was looking at his come-covered fingers in apparent wonder, before doing what Hank should have figured he would do, which was bringing his hand to his mouth and licking it clean. Then, to Hank’s shock and small amount of horror, he ducked his head and lapped the remainder from Hank’s stomach.

Christ, this kid was going to kill him. Absolutely going to kill him.

“Is that, uh… Can you, I mean… Is that okay for you to swallow?” Hank managed, even as his traitor cock stirred with interest at the sight of Connor raising his head and running his tongue over his lips.

“Hm? Oh, yes,” Connor said, casual as anything. “Anything I ingest within 100 milliliters can either be scrubbed from my mouth with a routine cleansing procedure or burned off in—”

Hank jumped in, grimacing. “No, forget it, I changed my mind. You can tell me all about your nanobots tomorrow.”

“I don’t have _nanobots_.“

“Well, whatever you have,” Hank said, looping an arm around Connor’s shoulders and tugging him down against him, “put ‘em to sleep.”

Hank could feel the curve of Connor’s smile against his shoulder. “I’m going to go into stasis for a while, then, to recalibrate. Please don’t be alarmed if I don’t respond to you right away.”

“Stasis, huh? Yeah, me too. Stasis.” Hank scrubbed a hand over his face, sleep pulling at him so heavily it felt like he could sink through the mattress. “Sounds great.”

Connor hummed and curled against Hank’s side, his face warm against his throat. “…Hank?”

“Mm?”

“Thank you for doing this with me.”

“Anytime, Connor,” Hank sighed, knowing he meant that literally. “Anytime.”

**Author's Note:**

> Markus: Glad to have you on board! So, what do you have on the roadmap for upgrades?  
> Jericho Foundation: [whips out the dick schematics] WELL, LET US TELL YOU
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
